


Another Country Beckons

by sidebyside_archivist



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-01
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-27 05:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sidebyside_archivist/pseuds/sidebyside_archivist
Summary: A starship captain discovers that his subconscious mind has been busily courting while his conscious mind runs his ship.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from LadyKardasi and Sahviere, the archivists: this story was originally archived at [Side by Side](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Side_by_Side_\(Star_Trek:_TOS_zine\)) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2019. We tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Side by Side’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sidebyside/profile).
> 
> Author's Note: Various excerpts from “The Waste Land” by T.S. Elliot.

_Son of man,_  
_You cannot say, or guess, for you know only_  
 _A heap of broken images, where the sun beats,_  
 _And the dead tree gives no shelter, the cricket no relief,_  
 _And the dry stone no sound of water. Only_  
 _There is shadow under this red rock,_  
 _(Come in under the shadow of this red rock),_  
 _The blackness of space is not absolute._

***

Gazing out Spock’s porthole after completing his nightly reports and stopping by his first’s cabin hoping for a chess game. Musing. Kirk knew space wasn’t black, of course. Knew many of the phenomena that stretched, distorted, and lighted that blackness. But the thought had come from somewhere. From a thought exercise he’d heard of as a child, perhaps? He shivered involuntarily.

“Spock, do you recall an old paradox, about why space is black and not a blaze of light?”

The Vulcan did not look up from his terminals. Four screens working just now, Kirk noted. Plus two palm padds glowing on the extended work surface beside him.

“It was never regarded as a paradox on Vulcan, Jim. I believe you are referring to Olbers’ Paradox. Humans wondered why, if space was infinite with an infinite number of stars in all directions, the sky was not brilliantly lighted. Of course, upon discovery of the finite value of the speed of light and the nature of the distances involved, the pervasiveness of dark matter and other obstacles to transmission, coupled with the fact that average light from a given direction diminishes in inverse proportion to the distance of the source from the observer, humans realized their error.” Spock appeared to believe he had answered the question. His long fingers danced over two of the screens, there was a flash, and one screen went dark.

“Olbers. Yeah.” Kirk turned back to the thick porthole and contemplated the blackness. Thinking like that made his brain twist. He nodded acknowledgement to the universe. “Too damned vast. Any chance you’ll finish that before we make orbit tomorrow?”

“To which ‘it’ are you referring, Jim?” Spock did look up then, a quirk on his lips that denoted amusement. “I will finish all of the ship’s business in approximately forty-seven minutes, depending on intranet download time. My own projects will, however, occupy a further hour after that, including uploads to the portables.”

Jim didn’t sigh. It was always so, Spock tying up loose ends before what he complained of as “enforced inactivity” during planet-side away missions, diplomatic missions or shore leaves. As they were estimating two to five days planet-side, Spock was pre-approving a new rotation’s duty roster for all four hundred and thirty personnel tonight, something he would normally not have tackled for another two days. “No chess, then. I’m going to take a turn around the ship before I call it a night.”

“Very well. I will forward all ship’s business to your yeoman for your signature in the morning.” Spock was already gone again, some arcane figures scrolling up a previously dark screen. Kirk straightened up and strode toward the door, pausing briefly to squeeze Spock’s shoulder as he passed him.

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Kirk slowed his stride once outside, padding softly past the various senior officers’ doors. McCoy, Uhura. Corridor. Sulu, Scott. Corridor. Turbo lift. He got in and spent a moment in thought. “Engineering.”

 _Why do I have a yeoman at all, when Spock does all the reports?_ Not that Spock did, of course. Ensign Peters, current acting yeoman, did the basics: crew scheduling, fuel consumption, general stores requisitions… all things that came to him in basic form from the various department heads. Most yeomen would feed that raw data into the ship’s mainframe and have viable reports to hand to his or her or its captain in seconds. It was good training for young officers, teaching them about all the tedious detail work that a well-run starship generated. Kirk remembered the couple of months he’d spent doing it without fondness.

On the _Enterprise_ , however, Spock handled the summation of these things: Fuel anomalies, trouble spots in rotations, unusual consumption, repeated malfunctions, anything out of the ordinary. Kirk had once asked Spock why he bothered, when the computer could do it all so easily.

“I am aware of that, Captain,” had come the rumbling voice. “It is true that if I do it, the initial synthesis takes longer by a factor of point five three. However, over the long term, that time factor is reduced to a negative factor of minus point zero nine five, as my own genetic software automatically correlates repeat or related anomalies over the entire time that I have summarized the reports, while the computer automatically disregards any reports that are more than four Standard months old. Reprogramming the computer every day to trace similar occurrences of irregularities in a multi-dimensional model that changes parameters on an almost daily basis would require significantly more time and use more computer resources than we have.”

“I believe you are talking about ‘intuition,’ Spock!”

“You are mistaken. I merely state that I am capable of acknowledging parameters which are not part of the computer’s programming.”

“Other ships manage to run on computer output, Mr. Spock.”

“The _Enterprise_ is not ‘other ships,’ Captain.”

A point of pride. Kirk knew better than to comment on it. Spock got it all done, and he got it all done better than any other exec in Fleet. The results begged the question.

Kirk knew he, too, was guilty of circular logic where the _Enterprise_ was concerned. He also knew better than to point it out to his first officer. He knew that Spock ran the computer solutions as well, for the purely pragmatic reason that he was unable to perform his duties an average of three days out of every forty-three due to injury or absence. Usually absence, knock on wood.

 _Which absences Spock always follows up by reading every report generated while he was unable to complete his nightly ritual, to allow his “genetic software” to catch up to the current models. Sheesh_. Kirk had once accused him of micro-managing, and had learned from the weeklong sulk that followed that (a) Vulcans did not micro-manage and (b) Vulcans did not sulk.

The turbolift opened silently at main engineering, and Kirk padded through the big double safety doors and stood staring down the main matter/anti-matter well. The throb of the big ship’s heart was all around him, coming up through the soles of his shoes and pressing gently in the air against his uniform. He looked around carefully; something felt amiss, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

It was nearly 2350 hours, and the Beta watch was beginning to yawn. Gamma should be trickling in. Kirk glanced across at the crewperson monitoring the power grid, a middle-aged Terran Master Specialist wearing the double crossed spanners of the Corps of Engineers on his breast. Bresson. Besson. Damn, Kirk couldn’t recall the man’s name. He had a steaming cup of coffee to hand, and appeared alert enough, but Kirk saw that he was shifting his feet nervously. Probably wishing he could telegraph the captain’s presence to the rest of his watch, Kirk surmised. He shot the man a half-smile, then stepped over the railing and slid to the lower deck to have a walk around the warp core.

A really young pair of crewmen, second class, supervised by a severe looking cadet, nearly fell over themselves as they cleared a path for Kirk among the mess of a disembowelled control unit of some kind. Looked like a make-work project, Kirk thought. He nodded in a curt but friendly enough manner, stepped around the worst of the mess, and kicked a stray module that looked like part of a power routing unit back toward one of the youngsters.

“Let’s keep a tidy workplace, gentlefolk.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

Kirk walked on, generally pleased with the overall look of the department, though something was still nagging at him. Behind him he heard the disgruntled hissing of the cadet as she reprimanded the crewmen for the supposed slight to her honour. Cadets. He barely remembered being one. Blocking a bad memory, no doubt.

At the duty station on the core deck he spent a couple of minutes with CPO Abrams, looking over the scheduled maintenance for the following ten days, then strolled back into the corridor and took the lift up to Recreation.

While a ship’s logged hour ended at fifty-nine minutes and thirty-one seconds, a crew hour ended at plus or minus six minutes. So it wasn’t surprising to see a few Beta watch crew getting their supper while some of Gamma watch was finishing breakfast. These things evened out over time. Kirk acknowledged many greetings as he looked around the huge main mess, and then paced across to the replicators.

“Cap’n can’t sleep,” he heard behind him. “Planetfall tomorrow.”

“He always up before we make orbit?”

“Always. Mark my words.”

Kirk grinned to himself as he requested his hot chocolate. Maybe that’s all it was, this off feeling he had. He contemplated going to the bridge, but he had supervised the Beta/Gamma hand-off only two nights earlier and didn’t want the junior officers to think he was keeping an eye on them. Damn, he really could have used Spock’s calm company over the chessboard. He noticed Sulu and Chapel sitting together with a deck of cards, and crossed the room to greet them.

“Morning,” he said, just as the chrono ticked over to 0000 and the mess began to empty of Gamma personnel very quickly. Hikaru and Christine looked up and smiled.

“Hi, Captain,” Sulu offered. “Have a seat and watch Christine lose a week’s pay.”

“Tut, tut, Mister Sulu, gambling in front of the youngsters. Nurse Chapel, I’m surprised at you.” He swung into a seat and scanned the table; they were playing blackjack. He grinned.

“So am I, Captain. I should know better than to risk anything I can’t afford to lose on this Asian mind-reader,” Chapel responded in her soft, deep voice, sounding rueful.

Sulu gathered the cards together and began to shuffle. “It’s not mind-reading, Chris. It’s just a case of following the cards and estimating the probabilities. Spock could teach it to you in an hour, if he could teach it to me. You’ve got a good head for numbers.”

Chapel snorted and shook her head. “Mister Spock, sit down alone with a woman for an hour, outside the line of duty? Have you lost your mind, Hikaru?”

Kirk frowned. “I’m not sure that speculation is appropriate, Ms. Chapel. I realize that you and Spock have had some disagreements in the past, but that’s no reason to suggest he is a misogynist.”

“Oh, hell, Captain, he’s not a misogynist. I don’t mean that at all.” Christine shook her head and smiled at him. “It’s just that, on Spock’s list of things to do with his time, spending any in recreation or relaxation with a woman is so far down as to be beneath consideration. Surely, as well as you know him, you must realize he just doesn’t ‘get’ women. Doesn’t mean he can’t work with us, he manages that beautifully. He just has no interest whatsoever in socializing with us.”

Sulu was trying hard not to smile. He glanced up at Kirk and held up the cards. “Deal you in, Captain?”

Shaking his head, Kirk turned back to Chapel, determined to set her straight. “Ms. Chapel… Christine. Spock doesn’t socialize, in the general way we do, it’s not a trait of Vulcans to require recreation or relaxation in the same way.”

She laughed out loud then, and her eyes were wide and incredulous. “Oh, come on, Captain. He listens to music with Pavel at least once a week, and they review poetry together. He fences with Hikaru, and has even offered to teach him to use a lirpa. He plays chess with you almost nightly, and almost always takes his meals with you and Leonard. Tell me you are always discussing ship’s business then. But you’ll never catch him practicing his lyre with Nyota, or teaching me to cheat at cards. He just isn’t interested in women.”

Sulu, who had coloured strangely during this little speech, began to deal the cards. “It’s not cheating. Besides, he helped Nyota reprogram the holoprojectors last month so she could cycle those old Vulcan stereos.”

“Vulcan stereos, showing Vulcan history. And the reprogramming had ramifications for the ship’s communications systems. That was work, Hikaru, not fun.” She peeked at her cards and then sighed. “I think I’ve had enough of this game for tonight. Maybe you could teach me how to figure the probabilities some day?”

“I’ll be happy to try, Chris. Captain, don’t pay too much attention to her; it’s just sour grapes. Half the females on this ship are in love with Spock, and about a quarter of the men.”

Kirk laughed as Chapel blushed, but sobered at her next remark. “Not me, not anymore. But I wish good luck to the men that are. How about you, Hikaru? A little nip and tuck with our handsome first officer?”

Sulu chuckled, but didn’t seem the least bit surprised by the comment. “I’m hopelessly het, Chris. My one attempt at boys was so long ago I’ve almost managed to forget how embarrassing it was.”

Kirk managed to maintain a neutral smile as he stood up. “Well, this is straying into the kind of revelation that you really don’t want your captain hearing. Goodnight, you two.” He barely heard their goodnights, his mind spinning as he walked toward the door.

Once safely in the turbolift he leaned against the wall and tried to think. No matter which way he parsed that conversation, it seemed that both Sulu and Chapel took it for granted that Spock was homosexual.

Spock. How could that be, and Kirk not have known? It didn’t seem possible.

Kirk realized he was still gripping the now empty mug that had held his chocolate, and that the lift was waiting for directions. He called for officers’ quarters and straightened up as the lift began to move. On impulse he checked the status lights at Bones’ door; the doctor was still awake. Kirk punched the announcer before he could change his mind, and stepped inside as soon as the door opened.

McCoy was lying on his couch, a padd on his lap and a glass of bourbon on the table beside him. The bottle beside it was nearly full.

“Hey, Jim. What’s up? Or just the usual trouble sleeping?”

Blowing out his breath in frustration, Kirk swung himself onto a chair and set the empty mug on McCoy’s table. He reached for the bourbon bottle and poured himself a generous portion. “Am I that transparent? Do I always have trouble sleeping the night before planetfall? Some youngsters were talking about it in the mess.”

“That’s what’s bugging you? Of course they notice, and talk about it. Everyone on this ship is a dedicated Kirkologist, Captain. Their lives revolve around you. That’s simply the nature of society on a starship.”

“Some people seem to be paying more attention to Spock, these days,” he ventured.

McCoy sat up abruptly and set down his padd. “Uh-oh. I knew you’d hear about that sooner or later, I should have brought it up. Believe me, Jim; no one thinks it wrong or dangerous or anything like that. In fact, I’d say that the vast majority of the crew actually feels there is a kind of poetic harmony in it. I know that stress levels dropped significantly when the rumour started going around.”

“Huh? Why, just because half the women on board could stop obsessing about him?”

McCoy laughed aloud. “About both of you, of course. Don’t worry, if you two continue to ignore it, it’ll peter out and become ‘just one of those things’ pretty quickly.” He stopped when he saw the intense gaze that Kirk had focused on him. “Jim?”

“What exactly are you telling me? What rumour?”

McCoy sipped his corn whiskey and cocked his head. “You’re kidding, right? Weren’t you talking about the current scuttlebutt about you and Spock taking up housekeeping?”

Kirk felt his mouth dropping open as a wave of shocked heat ran over him. “Me? And _Spock_? _”_

“Who else? Did you hear something different?”

After a long moment of silence in which Kirk struggled to make sense of what McCoy had just told him, he summoned a coherent sentence. He noticed his voice was tight. “I take it you don’t believe this particular rumour, Bones?”

“Hell, Jim, I figured that if it were true, you wouldn’t be trying to hide it from me. That would be against the rules, and it would be bad form for the two senior officers to break regs. Besides, you’re my best friend. If you and Spock had finally started a serious relationship, I knew you would have told…. Jim, you’re awfully pale. This really bothers you?”

Kirk gulped his whiskey and poured himself another shot, his hands shaking. “I don’t know what I feel about that, Bones. I didn’t even know Spock was… I thought he was heterosexual. I remember thinking about it once, ages ago when I first took over the ship… something in his manner… I dismissed it as a racial difference rather than a sexual indicator. Then that business with T’Pring. If I thought about it at all I assumed that homosexuality was illogical, having nothing to do with procreation.” He downed the second shot of corn whiskey and was about to pour a third when McCoy took the bottle away from him.

“Jim, Spock is as queer as an Aldebaran newt. I thought you knew! That pon farr thing, it’s a biological imperative certainly, but it has nothing to do with sexual preference in terms of a Vulcan’s sensual nature. It’s only about making babies. Whereas I know you’re aware that most of us sentients have sex for a lot of other reasons besides the continuation of our various species! Spock doesn’t have any interest in women.”

“But he has interest in men?”

“I could name half a dozen he’s gotten horizontal with over the last year, and I bet there are more I haven’t noticed. He only just attained sexual maturity after all, so I think he’s playing the field a bit. Or as much as Vulcans do. Remember when you figured out how your plumbing worked?”

“Bones! That was ages ago, and besides, what my mother didn’t know couldn’t hurt her,” Kirk joked, trying to keep himself from blushing.

“Well, same goes for Spock. It’s really not any of your business, unless he tells you himself. I’m surprised you didn’t know; your sexual antennas are usually pretty well tuned; I’m more shocked that he hasn’t told you. I wonder why. You never made any silly remarks about gays, did you?”

“Oh come on, Bones! Me? I’ve tried every flavour of sex there is, I’m hardly one to throw stones. I’m just…” he trailed off. “It doesn’t seem logical.”

McCoy snorted and shook his head. “Sex rarely does.”

“But he was _bonded_ to T’Pring.”

“They bond them all when they’re kids, Jim. To make sure that _someone_ is aware of that first pon farr approaching. Like us humans, Vulcans are predominantly het. But like us humans, you can’t tell either way until they start to care about sex, so they bond them based on the majority preference.”

“Where do you _learn_ these things!”

McCoy grinned and chuckled. “I talked about it with Lady Amanda last year. Sexual preference doesn’t usually become manifest in Vulcans until they hit puberty, which for them is just before their first pon farr. Spock was just approaching sexual maturity when you came aboard the ship, and probably didn’t even realize that he was gay until that T’Pring nonsense. Haven’t you noticed how much he has…well, _settled into his skin_ in the months since then?”

“But where the hell is the logic in that?”

“It’s logical for Vulcans to seek a partner to provide emotional support, Jim. Just because they control their emotions and don’t use them as a reason for their actions, that doesn’t mean they don’t have them. I’ll have to lend you some Vulcan romantic poetry. It’ll knock your socks off. They are very passionate people…in the privacy of their own homes. Outside their homes they are cold, logical, and efficient. Did you suppose that Lady Amanda settled for violent sex once every seven years?”

“I didn’t think it was any of my business.”

“Well, strictly speaking, I suppose it isn’t.” McCoy relinquished the bottle and watched as Jim poured the equivalent of four drinks into his mug. “You’re gonna regret that in the morning.”

“I already regret it,” Kirk replied, sipping the strong liquor. “You’ll give me a detox, won’t you? I’ve had a shock.”

“And why? I don’t understand why you’re so upset. There are always rumours about you, and about Spock. In the imaginations of your crew you’ve been paired up with every enlisted person from petty officer up, and every officer on this ship over the rank of second lieutenant. Hell, for a while you and I were a very hot item, Chris and I had a big laugh over that one.”

“Does he have a lover on board right now?”

“Uh-uh, Jim-boy. None of your business, or mine, unless it interferes with the chain of command. Then we invoke the regs. But until or unless he notifies me of a conflict, I don’t ask and he doesn’t tell.” McCoy sighed deeply. “But I certainly hope so. If not now, then someday soon. He’s a pretty lonely old soul, Jim.”

That simple statement moved something in Kirk’s chest, and he nodded. It was the bourbon, he decided, that was making his eyes water. “I’d better get to my quarters before I start to stagger. Thanks for the chat, Bones.”

“You’re welcome. Come and talk about it some more once you wrap yourself around it a little better. I’ll program a detox into your morning coffee right now, Jimmy. Get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” He glanced at the wall chrono. 0127. “Goodnight, Bones.”

“Night.”


	2. Chapter 2

_My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me._  
_‘Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak._  
 _‘What are you thinking of? What thinking? What?_  
 _‘I never know what you are thinking. Think._

***

The detoxed coffee had kicked in before he left his quarters, for which he was thankful. Despite his worry the night before, the booze had sent him to unconscious rest as soon as he’d gotten under the blanket, but the sleep had been of poor quality and full of whiskey evoked nightmares, and he’d woken up with a sour headache. 

Peters, his yeoman, brought a stack of padds while he was still dressing; rather than leave them for later, Kirk gathered them under his arm as he left his quarters to begin his day. He strode into main briefing at 0800 to find his entire landing party seated and waiting, all twenty of them, including Spock and Uhura. He managed his normal smile, and settled into his seat.

“Good morning, people. Iota Cetus Three, locally known as Parson’s World, or plain old Parsons. Class three Federation Colony, principal inhabitants human ninety-two percent, several other races represented. Colony has reached population threshold for an Academy intake college, and we are here to provide the curriculum and instructors for their first year students. The eight of you staying behind here….”

He went on with his briefing, covering ground that they all knew but which had to go on the official record before beaming down. Once he had given the overview, he handed off to Spock who ran through a tedious list of required material, a long checklist that took nearly half an hour to confirm. Then Uhura, overviewing and reviewing the contact and emergency protocols for those remaining on the planet. A short Q & A, and then Kirk took the briefing back.

“Beam down will commence at oh-nine-thirty, from the main transporter room. Please make sure your personal effects are delivered to cargo handling before you report to the transporter. Dismissed.”

He sat back as the junior crew filed out, and observed Spock as he gathered his briefing materials together. The Vulcan looked as he always did: quiet, intelligent, focused. Kirk gave a mental shrug and began to sort through the padds he’d brought with him, scanning and signing off on the various reports. Halfway through, he stabbed the intercom. “Ensign Peters report to main briefing.”

“On my way, sir,” came the young man’s disembodied voice. Kirk continued to review the reports, conscious of Spock sitting beside him, calmly waiting. He glanced up.

“Something to say, Spock, or just waiting to go to the transporter?”

“Both, sir.” Kirk stopped reading and straightened his uniform tunic before folding his hands on the table. “I note that Governor Nandipally Rao has invited us to a formal dinner this evening. May I suggest that you have Yeoman Peters resize your dress uniform?”

“Resize, Spock?”

“Captain, you have not worn your dress uniform since our reception en route to the Babel conference. You have lost considerable weight since then.”

Kirk blinked and licked his lips. The statement was nothing more than Spock’s usual total awareness of what was going on around him, he realized that. And yet, in light of last evening’s revelation, it struck him as absurdly personal that Spock was keeping track of his weight. He quickly filtered through a number of responses, and decided to keep it light. “Mr. Spock, have you joined the McCoy campaign to keep me dieting? I’m surprised at you.”

Spock shook his head. “I merely point out that you would be most uncomfortable in a poorly fitting uniform, sir, and that you will doubtless not have time to take care of the matter yourself.”

“Thank you, Mr. Spock.” The door swished open, and Kirk turned to Peters. “Ah, Peters, please have my dress uniform resized per the last measurements I had recorded for my standard uniform. And take these things away; they all look fine to me.” He pushed the pile of padds across the table and Peters, unsmiling, gathered them together. “Look into local customs, too, Peters, and see if I am supposed to take a host-gift to this formal event tonight, will you? Requisition something appropriate, if required.”

“Yes sir. Anything else, sir?”

“No. Carry on.” He stood up and tapped Spock lightly on the forearm. “Mister Spock, shall we take a tour of the bridge before we beam down?”

“As you say, Captain.” 

***

Nandipally Rao had the tawny skin and black hair that went with his ancestral name, but startling green eyes that managed to look vitally interested in whatever was happening around him. He was powerfully built, and Kirk recognized in him the same sort of charisma that Kirk had, himself: the draw of the leader, the magnetism of the commander. Rao’s staff all seemed to adore him, deferring to him without sycophancy. Kirk felt at ease with him at once, and knew that he wouldn’t if their interests crossed in any way. He wouldn’t want to be in competition with Rao; blood would flow.

As it was, they got along perfectly.

The preliminary meetings with the Colonial Council and the Board of Governors went true to form. Compliments, meaningless pleasantries. General informational exchange. Acknowledgement of hard correspondence transported to planetary mail distribution systems, the reception of medical updates and technological manuals. They broke for an informal lunch buffet in the same conference room they were meeting in, and then the discussions around the formalizing of the Academy intake college began.

Kirk was squirming with boredom by mid-afternoon; or he would have been squirming if he had allowed himself the luxury. It was with considerable relief that he agreed to the governor’s suggestion that the preliminaries were over, and that the various instructional and support staff should get to work at the Academy building so that any deficiencies would be identified and corrected quickly, allowing the _Enterprise_ to continue on her patrol. He watched his team filing out with the Parsonians, and then turned with a smile for Governor Rao.

“A productive meeting, your Excellency,” he offered. The governor nodded and stood up beside him. 

“I agree, Captain. I’m sure that StarFleet will be pleased with the calibre of young folk we’re turning out on Parsons. If I wasn’t so old, I’d be entering the Academy myself.”

Kirk shot him a look. “Give up your hard-won position to become a junior space cadet, sir? Seems like a strange choice for a man of your accomplishments.”

Rao laughed and waved a hand toward the door. “Let’s get out in the air, Captain. I suppose that it might seem strange, but I envy you your moving office, sir. How delightful it must be, exploring this vast galaxy, meeting so many different people, encountering interesting and new challenges daily. The office of Governor is dynamic, of course, in its own way, but can’t compare to the exploration of space.”

“I do enjoy my work, Excellency. Usually.”

“Call me Nandi, Captain. Protocol is for the press and junior staff.”

“And I’m Jim.” They walked down the utilitarian corridor of the government headquarters, and Rao opened a door into a severely landscaped interior courtyard garden. “You’ve done a good job here, considering the colony is only three decades old.”

“We’ve attracted a good number of very high quality people, thanks to the climate and geography. I wouldn’t want to be governor of a desert colony, nor yet a jungle. This is a nice, temperate, interesting place. You’ll be at this dinner tonight? Bring your senior staff.”

“Of course.”

They chatted for half an hour before Rao excused himself to deal with business, providing Kirk with a guide to take him across to the new Academy building. Utilitarian, almost ugly, it was a two story basic school, with two lecture halls, a science lab, several offices, an infirmary and a gymnasium, attached to a dull barracks that would house the twenty-three young people accepted into first year. Kirk knew that within a couple of years funding would start to flow back from StarFleet to Parsons, and that the ugly character of the school would vanish quickly if the quality of graduates was high enough; StarFleet rewarded and promoted those of its intake academies that excelled. Those that didn’t, seldom lasted past their second year.

He hoped Parsons would excel. Twenty-three students was a respectable number for such a small colony.

His people were scattered around the school, reviewing computer logs and source material, inventorying teaching aids and safety equipment. He found Uhura hunched over a terminal in one of the offices—she looked up brightly as he entered.

“Mister Spock is just over in the instructors’ barracks, sir.”

Kirk’s step faltered, and he frowned. “What made you suppose I was looking for Commander Spock, Lieutenant Uhura?”

Uhura’s mahogany skin darkened slightly. “I…apologize, sir. I don’t know what I was thinking. You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to see what everyone was doing, Lieutenant, and get your impressions. How does the facility seem to you? Have they done their homework?”

She nodded, straightening up and crossing her arms. “They seem to have it all under control, sir. I doubt we’ll need to do much more than wait for our instructors to settle in.”

“Good. The sooner we’re back on patrol the happier I’ll be. You received my invitation to the dinner tonight, I assume?”

“Yes, sir. Formal.”

“Just so, Lieutenant. Carry on.”

He backed out the door and turned resolutely away from the barracks side of the building, pulling out his communicator as he strode toward the front of the school. So, even Uhura was in on the current rumour about him and Spock. It was damned embarrassing, but he couldn’t figure out why. Why should it matter to him if his people thought he was involved with his first officer? What more appropriate liaison could he make? Damn it, if it were true he’d own up to it proudly, he thought. 

“Kirk to _Enterprise_. Prepare to beam me aboard.”

“Standing by, sir.”

It occurred to him then that perhaps he was a little hurt that Spock had made no overtures toward him. Could he be feeling just the least bit left out? He paused in the shade of the ugly building and gave himself a mental shake. He was an experienced man, he’d finished with his sexual “experimenting” years ago, and no doubt Spock knew it. It would be illogical for Spock to parade his inexperience before his commanding officer, especially given the unavoidable fact that since Kirk had been aboard the _Enterprise_ the captain’s sexual adventures had primarily been with females, though of various species.

 _Perhaps Spock believes I’m exclusively heterosexual. Hmmm_. It bore thinking about.

Later that day, walking down the corridor beside Peters and fussing with the collar of his dress tunic, his mind wandered back over the idea. It occurred to him that he hadn’t seduced any of the human command staff, that it would have been bad form. He had too much authority over them, it could easily be construed as harassment, and Bones would have had to report him to Fleet. Not worth the fun, at the risk of destroying a professional relationship. But not with a Vulcan; they were immune to that sort of coercion, weren’t they? If he and Spock did hitch up, no one at Fleet could complain. Of course, he’d assumed Spock was het, and that Vulcans weren’t prone to homosexuality. But knowing different, he felt the stirrings of curiosity about his enigmatic friend. 

He wondered if Spock would be open to the notion of a liaison with his captain, or if that would endanger the friendship they had built. There were many sides to the idea.

“Sir?”

He stopped outside the transporter room and looked at Peters. “I was wool-gathering. Sorry, Ensign. You’d better repeat all that.”

“Yes, sir. Governor Rao is a practicing Buddhist of the Tibetan Tantric tradition, and my research indicates that rice wine, tea, and fruit are the appropriate gifts for the occasion. As is customary on a colony world, I have included static-controlled seed for every fruit, and three of the tea seedlings, as a hope for the future. The wine is extremely potent, and should be used as an aperitif or an after dinner liqueur. It is a replica of a famous brand, made in the monastery at Lhasa. If he offers a toast to any particular god or goddess, you needn’t try to respond except to give a slight bow.” He demonstrated. 

“Thank you, Ensign. Anything else I should be aware of?”

“Not to my knowledge sir. The governor was born and raised on Earth and is, of course, a practiced diplomat.”

Kirk grinned. “So if I do something wrong he will, politely, not notice. Good. Ah, Lieutenant Uhura, looking very nice this evening. And Mr. Spock. The costume adds to your dignity.” He reached over and gave Spock’s upper arm a comradely squeeze.

Spock inclined his head, but Uhura gave Kirk a critical look and smiled mischievously. “Gracious, Captain, you do look good in that uniform. I believe you’ve lost some weight, too.”

He groaned aloud and glared at McCoy, now rounding the corner and coming toward them. “Uhura, I get more than enough of that from the good doctor and my ever observant first officer. Bones, did you recruit the whole crew to watch my diet for me?”

“More the merrier, I say. Though you are looking sleek, Jim. This the whole party?”

“Commander Llaydaod remained on the planet with her staff, and will meet us at the function,” Spock replied, stiff in his formal blues with the sash of his family across his chest. “Unless the captain has passed the invitation to any other of the staff?”

“No, I think the four of us can get into enough trouble, and Scotty is minding the store. Peters, give that fruit basket to the lieutenant and hand me the wine. It’s a host gift, Mister Uhura. You present it to Rao with our gracious so forth and so on.”

“Yes, sir, I know the drill.”

“Right, shall we go?” He turned and the door to the transporter room slid open. As he mounted the platform and took his place, he finished his instructions. “General embassy protocol, folks, and don’t stay for the night unless you’re sure you’re invited. And anyone who comments on what I eat gets three days in the brig on bread and water. Peters, make sure Scotty reviews the green-tag understock report, will you? He needs to get on to Starbase 17 about spares for the replicators, but I think he forgot during the environmentals upgrade. Then take the night off.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

“Co-ordinates received and locked in, sir.”

“Energize.”

***

It had gone well, he thought later, until the moment that Rao had leaned over to him and whispered in his ear. Dinner was over and the milling crowd had taken seats for a musical recital. Kirk was sitting beside the governor, enjoying the freedom from responsibility that the professionalism of his crew allowed him. On Rao’s other side, Spock was absorbed in the music. Behind them the other officers were scattered among the locals.

“Jim,” came the husky voice. He’d half turned and smiled at Nandi, distracted from the piano solo, and raised his eyebrows. The blazing green eyes were centimetres from his own. Kirk felt a stir of sexual interest, and licked his lips before responding.

“Yes, Nandi?”

“Would I be stepping on any toes if I invited your Commander Spock to stay after the recital? He seems open to the idea, but I don’t want to break any unwritten rules or hurt any feelings.”

Kirk had felt as if he were suddenly nailed to his chair, so quickly did his muscles tense. His eyes shot across Rao to the seemingly engrossed Vulcan, then back to Rao. “No toes that I’m aware of, Governor,” he managed tightly. “What makes you think he wants to? He looks like he’s thoroughly involved in the music.”

“Oh, perhaps I’m wrong. I’ve been wrong before. Shame not to try, though. He’s rather… compelling.”

The frankness of that confession had rocked Kirk, and he’d torn his eyes away from Rao’s before the blush reached his cheeks. “Mister Spock may do as he pleases, of course. He is not attached to anyone aboard the ship, as far as I am aware.”

“Excellent.” Rao had sat back, all but licking his lips. Kirk didn’t hear another note of the music, his mind spinning, remembering his half-joking remark about not spending the night.

 _Good lord_ , he thought, _the universe is conspiring to push Spock’s sexuality in my face._ _What the hell is going on with my karma, anyway?_

And later, aboard the ship, avoiding McCoy and Uhura’s eyes as he paced beside them back up to the officer’s deck, he had scarcely been able to believe the alacrity with which Spock had accepted the governor’s proposal. It was then that he remembered Peters’ remark about Rao’s religion.

Tantric Buddhism.

Great balls of fire. He hoped Spock knew what he was getting himself into.

“Jim?”

He startled and turned to McCoy, stopped outside the door to Kirk’s quarters. “Sorry, Bones. I was somewhere else.”

“Hmmm, you sure were. I asked if you wanted a nightcap before you turn in.”

“I…yes. Yes, I would. Come in, I have some good Scotch left from Starbase Aldrin.”

Settled in his quarters, both of them cradling glasses of amber fire, McCoy was studying him from under his brows. After a long silence the doctor cleared his throat. “Well, that solves the problem of the rumour, anyway.”

“No kidding.” Kirk heard the bitterness and winced, but it was too late. McCoy was smiling at him. That _I know what you’re thinking_ smile. “Don’t say it.”

“Say what? You were worried that your crew thought you were partners. Now they’ll know better within minutes. You know how fast news travels on this ship. Wonder who they’ll pair you up with next?”

“I hate gossip.”

“Then you shouldn’t be in charge of a bunch of highly imaginative people in a confined environment in deep space. This is great Scotch, by the way. What’s the make?”

“Oban.” Kirk swirled his glass absently. “Bones, why didn’t Spock ever talk to me about any of this? I mean, why…”

“Why didn’t you know? I keep wondering that myself. Maybe he just doesn’t care to open up his very private life to you, especially after that fiasco at the kun-ut-kalifee.” McCoy stumbled over the Vulcan phrase. “Hope Rao’s ready for Vulcan strength.”

“I hope Spock’s ready for Tantric sex.” He saw McCoy’s eyebrows shoot up and almost grinned. “That’s right. Rao’s religion of record is Tantric Buddhism. Ever hear of it?”

“God, I had a roommate who practiced it, back in med school. I always knew when he was ‘occupied,’ the howling was ear-splitting.” He chuckled. “Mind you, Vulcan sexuality is pretty tied up in mysticism as well.”

“Where do you learn these things!” Kirk set his glass down and stood up to pace. “I feel like a mushroom, Bones. Go on, I’m sure you have more to tell me.”

“Well, you know how strong he is. He killed you, after all,” McCoy drawled. “Stamina is part of that, too, Jim. I got a bunch of downloads from Mitch Beresford, after our Vulcan adventure was over though, unfortunately. Could have used the information earlier!”

Kirk snorted, interrupting, but McCoy ignored him.

“Mitch spent a couple of years on Vulcan at the Hybrid Medical Centre, and had a few run-ins with Vulcans. Our Vulcan friends take their sexual pleasure very seriously indeed, Jim-boy. Apparently it would be illogical to espouse celibacy, as the body obviously needs sexual release to maintain a proper chemical and hormonal balance, even outside of pon farr. Beyond that, they feel that the emotions associated with orgasm are a purification of the baser emotions such as lust, greed, jealousy, and so on. And you know that Vulcans never do anything by halves, Jimmy. Compared to a Vulcan, your longest session would probably be considered a meaningless quickie.”

“Ouch, Bones. That hurts.” He laughed. “Well, well, well. The more I learn, the madder I am that Spock never propositioned me!” The chuckle he expected didn’t come. Instead, McCoy was peering at him over the edge of his glass with that familiar smirk. Kirk sat back down and shook his head. “You weren’t meant to take that seriously.”

“Captain Kirk, I take everything you say seriously. And I actually believe that you meant that last remark.”

“Oh, hell.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and loosened the tight collar of his dress tunic. “I suppose I’m disappointed that Spock would be interested in one night stands. I kind of assumed that sex for him included some sort of touching of minds, and that doesn’t seem like a casual thing to me.”

“No, it doesn’t, does it? Remember though, he’s still learning about his sexual, and psychosexual, responses. Just like you were when you were about seventeen years old. How long did that phase last with you? Until about a week ago, wasn’t it?”

Both of them laughed then, and Kirk refilled the doctor’s glass. “Next to you, Bones, he’s my best friend. I don’t want to see him hurt.”

“He doesn’t want to see you hurt, either. And if you both keep cool about this, neither of you will be. Just take it easy, and if he wants to talk to you about it he will. At least, after tonight, he’ll know that you are finally aware of him as a sexual being.”

“I’d be interested in reading the material you got from Doctor Beresford.”

“Oh, really?” McCoy sipped the Scotch, grinning widely. “A bit of prurient interest, Jim?” 

Kirk found he was blushing again, but didn’t look away. “Maybe it is. I prefer to think that I care about Spock.”

“I’m sure you do. Care about him, I mean.” McCoy leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a minute, and Kirk braced himself for a lecture about his sexual conduct and misconduct over the years. Instead, McCoy skewered him with a look and began a ten-minute rant about the quality of the equipment in the new Academy infirmary.

Half an hour later he managed to get to bed without, really, obsessing about what Spock might be doing.


	3. Chapter 3

_Who is the third who walks always beside you?_  
_When I count, there are only you and I together_  
 _But when I look ahead up the white road_  
 _There is always another one walking beside you_  
 _Gliding wrapt in a brown mantle, hooded_  
 _I do not know whether a man or a woman_  
 _—But who is that on the other side of you?_

***

With the ship still in orbit, the Academy work going smoothly and nothing to do, Kirk decided on an inspection of all auxiliary control areas for the next morning. He breakfasted early whilst trying not to look around for his first officer, then called Scotty to a small briefing room and let him in on his plans. “I’ll need a couple of good technicians, Mister Scott, but not your best, if you’ll arrange it. And if you’ll mind the bridge for me?”

“Don’t ye think I’d be a better choice for that sort of inspection, sir? I know those systems like the back o’ me hand.” The chief engineer looked discomfited by his captain’s sudden impulse to inspect his back-up systems.

“Of course you could spot anything wrong in seconds, Scotty. But I need to keep current on the technology as well. And if your least experienced staff can’t explain it to me well enough for me to run it blindfolded, they will need some remedial training and so will I. Make sense?”

Scotty’s lips had twisted and he cocked his head, accepting. “Aye, Captain. Aye, you are two refits behind on the auxiliary bridge, as well as the secondary weapons console and the emergency engineering backup systems.”

So Kirk found himself crawling under consoles and down Jeffries tubes, in the company of a pair of midshipmen who were even more nervous than Scotty had been. Preskin and T’thic’es, both aspiring to officers’ school in a couple of years, both hoping for a good report to their department head.

The new auxiliary systems were even more intuitive than the old ones, he realized: easier to use, rather than harder, and almost self-explanatory. The youngsters who were following him on the inspection managed to teach him the new routings and couplings easily, and he made a note to commend Scotty for the efficiency of his department.

“Bridge to Captain Kirk.” Kirk smacked his head on the roof of the tertiary photon tube, where he was tracing the new coolant ducting, and swore loudly. Much to the amusement of Midshipman Preskin, who was head-to-head with him.

“Did they make this one narrower than the old one, Preskin?”

“No, sir. I do that all the time, sir.”

“Well, don’t. It’s damned painful.” He inched out of the tube and paced to the wall comm, rubbing a developing lump on the back of his head. “Go ahead, Scotty.”

“Governor Rao holding for you, Captain. Shall I have them pipe it down there?”

“Go ahead. Governor Rao, Kirk here.”

A moment’s silence, then the smooth voice came over. “Captain. Hope I’m not catching you at a bad time.”

Kirk rubbed his head and shot a grin at Preskin and T’thic’es, side by side as they closed up the photon tube. They smiled back, and Kirk turned back to the comm. “Not at all, Governor. How can I be of assistance?”

“Commander Llaydaod informs me that she is satisfied with the condition and equipment at our little Academy, and asked me to advise you accordingly. I believe that signifies a change-over of authority, Captain.”

Kirk nodded to himself. Hours ahead of their most generous estimate. He felt a surge of relief at the idea of getting underway again, and an image of Spock floated through his mind. He squelched it and concentrated on what needed to be done now. “So logged, Governor. I will begin recalling my people, and inform you when we are ready to leave orbit. Did you have any further business for StarFleet at this time?”

“No, nothing. I enjoyed meeting you and your crew, Captain. Please drop by if you find yourself in our little sector again.”

“Thank you, Governor. Kirk out.” He released the comm, and then hit it again. “Kirk to bridge.”

“Scott here.”

“Scotty, issue an all-aboard, and secure the ship to get underway for Starbase Seventeen. I want to leave orbit at 1800.”

“Yes, sir. Are ye done with your inspection then, Captain?”

“Just about, Scotty. I’ll let you know when I’m finished. Kirk out.” He turned back to the midshipmen and smiled. “I believe my next stop is in the emergency engineering section.”

“Yes, sir,” T’thic’es purred, waving a tentacle toward the door. “You will find that the emergency over-rides have been re-designed with the IDIC Minority Access memorandum of last quarter in mind, in order to allow the console panels to lower themselves within point five meters from the ground, thereby facilitating access….” Kirk followed the enthusiastic engineer out, marvelling at the quality of his crew. That the two point five metre tall being even noticed that the console panels were too high for some of its crewmates was wonderful all by itself. That it cared was even better, especially considering the way it was ducking to get through the standard doorways without hurting itself. Kirk rubbed his own head again, and smiled. 

***

The ship surged out of orbit on schedule. Kirk left the bridge immediately and made his way down to the mess hall, famished after missing lunch during his inspection. The mess was busy and noisy; he picked up a tray and went to the officers’ chow line, where he indulged himself with a rare steak and a well-done baked potato with butter, sour cream and bacon. _Maybe_ , he thought, _if I just skip lunch more often I can eat what I want and Bones won’t bug me._

He tried his theory out a few minutes later on his CMO, who shook his head and sighed. “Can’t you just eat reasonably all the time, instead of this binge and starve routine? Hell, I’d almost classify that theory of yours as an incipient eating disorder, if I didn’t know you better.”

Kirk echoed the sigh and dug into the steak with ill-disguised enthusiasm. “Oh well, it was worth a try. Seen Spock today?”

“No.” McCoy frowned. “I expected him to be here for dinner this evening. Records show he returned to the ship around 1330, but he’s been staying in his quarters.”

“You’ve been checking up on him?” Kirk stared at his friend, and then returned to his meal. “Understandable, I suppose. You’re worried about him too, aren’t you? Do you think Spock was aware of that rumour about us?”

McCoy shrugged. “He doesn’t miss much around here. You going to drop in on him later?”

“I think so. I missed our chess game the last couple of nights.” Kirk sprinkled salt liberally on his over-stuffed potato and watched McCoy wince. “You know, you take a lot of the fun out of eating, Bones.”

“Good.” He pushed back from the table. “I can’t bear to watch you eat that, though. Let me know if you…well, let me know. If there’s anything….” He shook his head. “Now see what you’ve done, you’ve got me babbling.”

“It was bound to happen sooner or later, old friend. Did you transfer that information from Doctor Beresford to my terminal?”

“Yup.”

“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Okay.”

Spock. Back to Spock again. Kirk finished his meal, enjoying every poly- and mono- saturated and unsaturated fat-laden morsel, and then sauntered up to his own quarters where he pulled up McCoy’s transferred data onto his terminal. He downloaded it all onto a padd, got a cup of tea, and settled onto his couch to read until 2100 or so, his usual chess time with Spock.

Fascinating. He found he was blushing after just a couple of minutes, despite Doctor Beresford’s rather dry, clinical style of writing. And he found himself speculating, almost daydreaming, about what it would be like to have a lover who was also his best friend.

“Uh-oh, Jimmy T.,” he told himself. “Bad Captain. Bad, bad Captain. No doughnut for you.”

But was it bad? According to this literature, Spock was very likely to settle down to a single partner relatively soon, in human terms. In fact, it appeared that Spock was actually overdue for a long-term relationship. Despite McCoy’s insistence that he was still “experimenting”, it was unusual for a Vulcan to carry on with that phase for more than a couple of months after his first pon farr, if he wasn’t attracted to his childhood bonded mate.

Strange, that Vulcans could be bonded to one person for pon farr, and another entirely for… well, for a nuptial sort of relationship. And that those two bonds could be separated entirely in their psyches, neither having any bearing on the other. That one could even be broken, without any damage to the other. 

Of course, T’Pring had broken Spock’s bond with the challenge, hadn’t she? Stupid cow. “I would have your name, and your property, and Stonn would still be there.” “I found I did not want to be the consort of a legend.” _I’ll bet she was seething now_ he thought; stuck with Stonn, and having nothing at all from Clan Surak. Chance at the crown jewels, and she’d blown it; she could have at least borne a child to the Clan, and had a claim that way, even if Spock never sought her out again. 

_Ah, the chances we miss when we think we’re being clever_. She should have made sure Spock was heterosexual before she issued that challenge, if she had expected him to accept her when he won.

And there were lots and lots of homosexual Vulcans. Kirk found his mind spinning at the statistics. Thirty-seven percent. Thirty-seven percent of them chose life-partners of the same sex. And of those thirty-seven percent, fully half never again mated with the opposite sex during subsequent pon farr episodes. And, according to Beresford, the males were required to donate sperm during pon farr if they went through it with another male. Apparently the males were nearly infertile during the rest of the cycle, their sperm count increasing by a factor of millions during the rut. The females, in turn, had their ovaries lifted surgically and individual ovum ripened artificially, inseminated, and surgically re-implanted when they were ready to bear children. 

Kirk found himself boggling at the mechanics of acquiring a sperm sample from a Vulcan male in the grip of the blood fever. There was probably some strange, Vulcan, Machiavellian methodology that he didn’t even want to contemplate. 

What a complicated way to make babies. “Doctor, it is a well-known fact that Vulcans propagate our species by mail.” The phrase floated back to him, and he nearly choked. 

He threw the padd down on the table and stood up to pace the room. It was ridiculous, what he was thinking. He had never contemplated Spock as a partner before. Never felt much attraction to him, other than the occasional casual recognition of him as a very handsome man. Was it just because he had found out about his sensual side that Kirk was attracted to him now? Was he really attracted? Or just… fascinated. What had that padd said about Vulcan genitalia? Something about a second ridge on the glans that became extremely swollen before ejaculation to ensure delivery of sperm inside the female… or male. 

Yikes. How in hell did they get those sperm donations, then? Post-coital extraction from the receiving partner? How embarrassing was _that_ idea? “Hold still, Mister Kirk, this will only take a moment but we have to do it while he’s still unconscious…”

Kirk smacked himself on the forehead. “Mister Kirk?” He began to pace again, half listening for any sound through the soundproof bulkhead between his quarters and Spock’s. Ridiculous. If Spock were human, Kirk would have no hesitation in going next-door and weaselling out explicit details of what had happened last night. They would share tales, have a couple of drinks, it would be simple and fun and, possibly, enlightening. But Vulcan privacy and reticence, and the newness of Kirk’s knowledge of this particular Vulcan’s activities and proclivities, made that approach impossible.

He paced into the bathroom and leaned on the counter, staring at his flushed face in the mirror. “You,” he announced, “are behaving like a fool. Worse, you are behaving like a teenaged fool. Will you kindly remember that you are the captain of StarFleet’s pride and joy, the flagship of the United Federation of Planets, and not some prurient, juvenile, moronic halfwit who has never heard of grown-ups having sex before? What the hell would young Preskin and T’thic’es think if they could see what’s going on in your head…”

That thought stopped him cold, and he blushed again, furiously. Odds were good that he and Spock would meld again, sometime in the future, in the line of duty. It had happened before; it was a useful and efficient tool for dealing with some kinds of difficult situations. But next time it happened, poor Spock would see just what an infantile fixation his commanding officer had developed.

“Oh, lord, he’s gonna hate me.”

Kirk paced back out into his living room and stared around. 2055. To fake equanimity and play chess, or to go over there and confess his confusion and worry and try to get some kind of… some kind of what? “Well. I’m not a coward, I have _never_ been a coward, and I’m not going to start now. Most of my concern is legitimate, isn’t it? Why am I talking to myself? Have I lost what little sense I was born with? What is it I want from Spock?”

 _How about a confession of undying love and a vow to be true to me forever?_ Oh lord, where had that come from? Kirk chuckled to himself and quaffed down his now-cold tea. He’d go next door. He would ask for a game of chess, like always. And once playing, he would see if he could broach the topic of… of sex. Of Rao, and gay Vulcans, and whether or not Spock had any plans for his next pon farr. That should be an interesting topic of conversation with Spock. _‘It has to do with biology, Captain.’ ‘Vulcan biology, Mister Spock?’ ‘No, Aldebaran biology, Captain. I am sexually attracted to Aldebaran newts.’_

Kirk finally lost the last semblance of control and collapsed on the couch, chuckling helplessly. When he was finally able to wipe the tears from his eyes and stand up, he realized that no matter what happened when he went to talk to Spock, it wouldn’t damage their friendship. They respected one another. That counted for a great deal, and that wasn’t about to change. No matter what. He wouldn’t allow it.

When Spock’s door slid open in front of him, he had to still an impulse to jump back. But inside all seemed normal. Spock was seated at his desk, as usual, screens glowing in front of him. He was gazing calmly at Kirk, as usual. He wasn’t in uniform, dressed instead in a loose white tunic over his uniform pants, but then he hadn’t been on duty for…several hours. “Good evening, Captain.”

“Hi, Spock. I was hoping for a game of chess.” He padded into the room and took his usual stance at the porthole, gazing out into space. “What are you working on?”

“Personal things, Jim.” Behind him, Kirk could hear the tapping and clicking as Spock saved his work and shut down his terminals. “I would enjoy a game of chess. Would you like to set up the board?”

Relieved, Kirk turned to the other room and strode in, began to reorganize the chess set where it sat on Spock’s small table. “Perhaps we could have some tea?”

“I will program it,” Spock’s soft baritone came back. Kirk settled into his usual seat and picked up two pawns, shuffled them behind his back. Spock came in, carrying two steaming mugs, and set them down, contemplating Kirk for a moment. “Left,” he said, and Kirk held up the black pawn, then reset the pair on the board and made his opening move before reaching for his tea.

“Interesting man, Governor Rao. I hope you enjoyed your time with him,” Kirk said, after rejecting several other gambits. It was a human thing to say, at least, and not too nosy. Spock made his own opening move, and glanced up.

“I did. However, I found him somewhat… “He hesitated, then gave a most un-Vulcan-like shrug. “Facile.”

“Facile? As in….”

“I professed an interest in his religion. I do not know if you are aware that he is a Tantric Buddhist?”

Kirk almost choked on his tea, set it aside and wiped his mouth. Of all the scenarios he’d run in his mind, Spock bringing this up hadn’t occurred to him. He studied Spock’s averted face as the Vulcan studied the chessboard. “I was aware of it. A rather rare and esoteric form of worship among humans,” he managed.

“So I understood from my reading. However, he is more given to the purely material and physical aspects of his religion, and seems to disregard the mystic and spiritual parts. I do not think he really understands it, using it more for its shock value, as an attention-getting device, than as an actual belief system. I found him arrogant and, as I stated, facile. Still, it was an interesting evening. I found myself wishing, once or twice, that you had been there to take part in the conversation.”

“In the conversation.” Kirk moved a piece without thinking, and saw Spock’s eyebrow shoot up. He maintained a bland expression, though, and Spock frowned, and then captured his exposed bishop without comment. “I couldn’t have contributed much, Spock. I know very little about Tantric Buddhism, except that it involves a great deal of sex.” He knew he was blushing furiously at that, but hoped that the light was dim enough to disguise it.

Spock glanced up, and Kirk could see the half smile trying to escape. “It does not involve a great deal of sex, Jim. Not in its true form. It involves extremely intense and prolonged sexual relations, when practiced properly, as a small part of the religious acts. However, it seems that Governor Rao was more interested in the sort of interpretation you put on it than the one I was expecting.” Kirk could almost hear him thinking _trust humans to misinterpret their own deities to advance their sex lives._

“I have little use for organized religion of any sort, Spock, so I can’t comment on that. IDIC, though.”

“Indeed.” Spock moved his queen and looked up at Kirk. “Your game is not up to its usual standard, Jim. I predict mate in three. Did you want to resign and start afresh, or should we attempt to play at all this evening? It seems you have something else on your mind.”

Kirk swallowed, staring, then looked away. “I have to admit, I was a bit worried when you agreed to stay on the planet with him last night, Spock. I know it’s none of my business, but you’re my friend… and I was worried about you,” he finished lamely, repeating himself and not caring. Spock sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.

“Nandi Rao asked about you, Captain,” Spock said softly. “He wondered if you would be interested in accepting his invitation to stay on the planet if we had a second night in orbit.” Kirk looked up, startled.

“What did you tell him?”

“I told him that I did not know.” Spock rocked slightly on his chair before adding, “Given the quality of my experience, I am glad you did not have to consider that option.”

“He was bad, huh?” Kirk asked, daring to smile. Spock’s face relaxed in what was, for him, a wide grin.

“He was awful, Jim. So much noise, such a production, and little more for the performance than I have encountered with… much less experienced men.”

Kirk let the smile widen, and they shared a moment of companionable silence. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to find out the hard way. And I’m glad you didn’t… that you knew I…” He faltered, then reached up and began to reset the chess pieces. “Never mind.”

“That you would have considered it,” Spock replied softly. “I am under no illusions about your sexual preferences, I believe. Forgive me, but this is something that friends can discuss in private, is it not?”

“It is. It usually involves a bit of blushing and evasion, but yes, I can talk about this.”

“So I have been led to believe. Among my people, these things are discussed with one’s parent or one’s physician, but never among ones acquaintances or peers. However, I cannot imagine taking this conversation to Doctor McCoy.”

“Lord, no. I can see your point. But you talk about sex with your parents?”

“Of course. They are, obviously, experienced. One’s peers are frequently as lacking in experience as oneself, so it would be illogical to turn to them for advice or instruction. I am in the peculiar position of having no Vulcan healer available, and being unable to turn to my father for information, and so I have been reading, observing, and, of course, experimenting. Rao falls under the last category.” He scanned the reset chessboard, and then shook his head. “I would rather talk than play. Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” Kirk pushed his chair back from the table. “You aren’t coming to me for advice then, because I’m your friend. Your peer. Probably a good thing, I am pretty much a failure in the relationship business.”

“You have had many sexual successes, however.”

“Nothing that’s lasted, though, Spock. You’ve seen the kind of sexual affairs I’ve had. A night here, a night there. Nothing that I’m proud of.” _Careful, Jimmy, you’ll talk him out of it,_ he found himself thinking, and dropped his eyes. “Fun, of course. But not very satisfying.”

“Fascinating. You are looking for a long-term partner, then?” 

Kirk was moved by the devil then to look up and smile flirtatiously. “Only if it’s someone as handsome and clever as you, Mister Spock.”

 _Okay, that went over like a lead shuttlecraft_ , he thought, seeing the blank look on his first’s face. Then Spock’s face changed, subtly. Kirk found himself pinned under the most intense scrutiny his friend had ever subjected him to, his black eyes glittering, his brows coming down to fiercely frame them, his mouth hardening. “Spock? I didn’t mean anything…” The glittering eyes snapped shut.

“You should not tease me, Captain.” The look was gone, and so was Spock, up and out of his chair and back into his office. Kirk mentally slapped himself, and got up to follow.

“I wasn’t teasing, Spock. I meant it as a compliment. You’re attractive, intelligent, and sensitive… interesting, educated and erudite, and you are my best friend. I promise you, I wasn’t teasing. But of course you know, or you think you know, that I’m incapable of a committed relationship. So let’s forget I said anything and I’ll go home. We’ll play chess another night.”

Spock was facing away, standing at his desk, eyes roaming over the various discs and chips that were neatly stacked upon it. Kirk hesitated behind him, then reached up and set a hand on one tense shoulder. “Please, Spock. Don’t be angry with me. I value our friendship far too highly to harm it with anything casual. And I value our working relationship too much to try anything that might damage it. Do you understand?”

“I understand that you know nothing about yourself, Captain.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Captain…” Spock straightened up and turned to face him, and Kirk had to control himself hard not to take a step back from the naked anger on the Vulcan’s face. “You have been openly flirting with me for months, since our return from Vulcan. The doctor sees it, the senior officers see it. The crew see it to such an extent that for the last three point two months they have assumed that you and I are in a permanent relationship. I have been trying to learn about my own feelings, my sexual impulses, and my needs, in order to confront you about it. Apparently the only person who is unaware of your feelings toward me is you, yourself.”

Kirk felt as if he had been slapped. Emotions raged through him: anger, astonishment, disbelief, shame, guilt. He stared at the furious black eyes, then wheeled around and strode toward the door.

Spock caught him before he reached it, grasping him by the shoulder and spinning him around. Kirk made some sort of noise, shocked at being handled so by anyone, much less Spock, and then his mouth was closed by the intense, incredible, soft heat of the Vulcan’s lips.

His knees turned instantly to jelly; his skin felt as though electricity were running from his crotch to his crown and back. Spock shot an arm around his waist and cupped his ass in one hot palm, the other arm snaking around his shoulders, and the full length of that hard body was pressed against him as the Vulcan’s clever tongue pressed against his lips. Kirk moaned aloud, mouth opening in protest or acceptance, and that incredible heat threatened to overwhelm him. He could feel his body responding against his will, his cock engorging and pressing against the front of his pants, his nipples hardening and tightening against his tunic. Sweat broke out on his brow, and he was suddenly fighting the embrace, needing to get away. 

This was definitely not under his control.

The Vulcan held him for a moment longer, long enough for Kirk to remember his strength on the sands of Vulcan, long enough to realize that if Spock meant for him to stay he would have no choice. Then he was free, almost thrust away from the stronger man, and he staggered backward.

Spock’s eyes were hooded now, unreadable. His body was tense and still for the space of several human heartbeats, watching as Kirk raised a hand to his mouth. Kirk could find no semblance of order in his mind, could summon no response to what had just happened. As if realizing it, the Vulcan nodded once, almost curtly.

“Get out.”

“Spock.”

“You do not wish to be here. Very well, take yourself away.”

Kirk found the sweat breaking out again. “Please don’t. Let me think, for a minute. Please.”

The Vulcan made a noise then, a strange noise that came from the back of his throat. Kirk thought it might have been laughter, though the stony face didn’t change. Then abruptly he turned and paced back into the other room, leaving Kirk standing a meter from the door.

 _What happened_ , he thought, _to this not ruining our friendship? What happened to me not being a coward?_

But he couldn’t force himself to follow. Instead he turned woodenly and took those last steps toward the door. It had closed behind him before he even knew he intended to leave. A pair of crewmen fell silent and gazed at him as they passed, both with nods and a half-whispered “Captain, sir” as they hurried away. God, he was standing in the corridor, sweating and shivering, with a hard-on. _That should start the rumour mill up again_ , he thought with something like despair.

What had just happened to him?

Good god, had he really been flirting with Spock, and not even recognized his own behaviour? Had everyone but him been aware of it? Could it be true? He stared blindly at the corridor wall, not seeing it. How could he do something like that? Did he doubt his own perception that much, that he believed Spock so profoundly? Was he so unaware of his own feelings, that he could have been leading Spock on without any real intention of taking him anywhere, or did he actually want a relationship with…

Spock. Hell. That was one hell of a kiss. One _hell_ of a kiss.

His courage re-asserted itself. He turned and smacked Spock’s announcer before he could change his mind again, and the door shot open in front of him.

The front room was empty and quiet. Kirk paced inside and let the door shut behind him, then called out gently into the other room. “I want to apologize for my behaviour, Spock. You took me by surprise, earlier. I wasn’t aware… I still don’t understand what I have been doing that you saw as…”

Spock took a step into the doorway opposite him, and shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the doorframe. “Captain, it is immaterial. I am sure that you will amend your behaviour, now that you realize it is inappropriate, given that you do not wish to pursue an intimate relationship with me. And I will look elsewhere for the partner I seek.”

Kirk tried to still the turmoil in his mind and think clearly. Spock was offering, perhaps for the last time, an opportunity for Kirk to recognize and acknowledge his feelings. But Kirk didn’t feel ready to act, much less commit to a serious relationship with this man, no matter how attractive he found the idea. 

“Spock,” he began, taking another step toward the Vulcan and opening his hands wide in appeal. “The fact that I’ve been unaware of my actions is frightening to me. I know you can understand that. I hate not being in control of anything that’s going on, most especially not being in control of myself. I do sincerely apologize for teasing you; it was unconscionable, especially considering that I more than half meant what I said. Can you find it in you to give me a few days grace, an opportunity for some self-analysis, before you close this door on me forever?”

Spock raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you telling me that you had not thought about me in a sexual way before now?”

“I didn’t even know you were gay until two days ago, Spock,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I was so slow on the uptake, but I really thought you were straight. I never seriously considered you as a sexual partner; because I made the stupid assumption that homosexuality is illogical. I’m not one to pine after something I know I can never have. Do you understand?”

The cocking of Spock’s head was cute, he thought. “I am surprised that I did not consider that. Perhaps my own desire blinded me to the possibility. You did seem to be so flagrantly flirting. I will agree to let the matter rest for a few days, Captain, if you will agree to giving me an honest discussion about it then, whether you decide you find me an acceptable partner or not.”

“That’s more than fair, Spock.”

“It is in my best interests not to, as you say, close this door before all the possibilities have been explored. However, if you are so recently come to knowledge of my sexuality, perhaps a little research on your part is in order. Vulcan sexual partnerships are not comparable to human ones. And while we do not encourage off-worlders to investigate our social customs, I think you will find, as is our custom, that a discussion with Doctor McCoy might prove enlightening for you. He has made it clear to me that he has done considerable research, although I have not availed myself of his services as mentor. Our relationship on the ship precludes it, for me, but I believe that his friendship with you invites more intimate discussion than does his with me.”

Kirk realized that he was blushing to the roots of his hair. “I know there are differences, Spock. If you want, I’ll talk to McCoy. But can you talk to me about them?”

“It is not our custom.” Spock pushed himself away from the doorframe and gazed at him for a long minute, and Kirk found himself remembering that kiss. “It is utterly illogical, but I find myself wanting to touch you again. You felt just as I expected you would: hard, tense and warm, not a match for my strength but certainly a partner I need not worry about harming. You have taught me to enjoy your mind and your character, Jim. For me it is only a short step to wanting, and enjoying, your body and soul, as well.”

His throat was so tight he couldn’t swallow. “But you’re not speaking of a one-night stand, Spock, or even a short, uncommitted relationship, are you?”

“No,” the Vulcan agreed. “But I am also not asking you to give your life up for me without learning whether or not you are capable of being fulfilled in a monogamous relationship. I, certainly, am not willing to bond myself to you until I am sure that we can function as a couple, without it being a struggle or a sacrifice on either of our parts. While you have all the qualities I would look for in a life-partner, you also have, as you pointed out, displayed a distressing tendency to seek sexual adventures for their own sake, without attachment to the person you are sexually involved with. While that is suitable for a youngster experimenting with his body, it is not particularly attractive in a man of your experience, who ought to know that the best sex breeds only from absolute trust and familiarity.”

“I have never met anyone I trusted absolutely. Before. And who I also found sexually attractive, I mean. I do trust a couple of people. Bones. My mother. Neither one of them is the least bit sexy to me.”

Spock raised an eyebrow and unfolded his arms. “That is fortunate. At least in the case of your mother.”

“Was that a joke?”

“I assure you, it was not.”

Kirk licked his lips and narrowed his eyes. “I don’t believe you. In fact, your sense of humour is something I like about you.”

The reaction he expected came, and Kirk found his shoulders relaxing somewhat as Spock responded in his best Vulcan deadpan. “If that is a true statement, you are possibly the only being in my experience who would suggest that I have such an affliction as a sense of humour.”

“You just did it again.”

“Perhaps there is hope for us after all, then.” Spock took a short step toward him and stopped again. “Although I wish it were different, Jim, I must ask you to leave now. I, too, have a great deal to think about.”

“Will I see you at breakfast?”

“Yes.”

“Goodnight, then. And… I appreciate the second chance. I promise an honest answer.”

“That is all I require. Goodnight, Jim.” 


	4. Chapter 4

_I have heard the key_   
_Turn in the door once and turn once only_   
_We think of the key, each in his prison_   
_Thinking of the key, each confirms a prison_

***

Breakfast had been difficult for Kirk. He had slept poorly and, despite giving himself a firm talking-to about treating Spock normally in public, he had startled and blushed when the Vulcan had joined him at the table. Worse, he knew that his over-tired state and unusual reaction was not lost on the nearby crewmembers, which meant that it would be incorporated into ship’s gossip before lunchtime. 

Still, he managed to regain control of himself, and Alpha shift went smoothly. His mid-day break was spent in a working lunch with his Communications staff, and the afternoon, as normal, on the bridge. The ship’s current patrol route was taking them past several interesting cometary bodies, which kept Spock occupied and freed Kirk to ignore him and work on his duties as captain without too much thought about the night before. 

Not too much thought, but enough to make him wincingly schedule a meeting with Bones before dinner. Peters made the appointment and confirmed it for him as he rose to leave the bridge at 1600 hours. 

“Thank you, Yeoman,” he responded automatically, carefully not seeing the sudden attention that Spock gave him as the Vulcan completed briefing his own replacement. Despite himself he felt a frisson of anticipation at that look. “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kirk strode into the turbolift before Spock could join him, and asked for Sickbay.

The medical facilities were empty, a condition that Kirk approved of as much as his CMO did. He found McCoy relaxing in his office with a medical journal on his terminal’s screen and the quiet hum of Xanthian throat music coming from the wall speakers. “New taste in music for you, Bones?”

“I find it soothing. Pull up a chair, Jim. Drink? Or is this official? Rare for you to schedule yourself in.”

Kirk flopped onto the offered seat and laced his fingers together in his lap. “This is not ship’s business, Doctor, but it is a real appointment to speak to a specialist about something personal. Do I get a drink with that?”

“Depends how personal.”

“Spock, and Vulcan sexuality.”

“With that you get the whole bottle.” McCoy swung around and stood up to open the cabinet behind his desk, which housed his bar. “For Vulcan sexuality you have your choice of vodka, Scotch, brandy both human and Saurian, corn whisky, rum or gin, though I’d skip the gin. Just the smell nauseates me.”

“Make it a large vodka, if you have ice, or a Scotch if you don’t.” He waited while his friend poured him a glass of clear fluid, popping a couple of ice cubes into it from his specimen fridge, then he sipped the powerful liquor slowly while McCoy poured himself a corn whiskey and resumed his seat. “I’m in trouble, Bones.”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific than that, Jim.”

“Bones… in your professional opinion, have I been flirting with my exec?”

McCoy choked on his whiskey and pressed a hand over his mouth, eyes watering as he forced himself to swallow. “I almost spit that out, Jim! That kind of question, when a man’s got a mouth full of whiskey… why, that’s practically alcohol abuse! Who accused you of flirting?”

“Spock.”

“Ah.” McCoy sat back and cleared his throat. “Well, it’s like this, Jim. Yes.”

“Yes? That’s all you have to say? And if I was, why the hell didn’t you mention it to me?” He thumped his drink down and shook his head. “No, I know, you thought I was seriously pursuing a non-serious fling with him, didn’t you? Because you knew I hadn’t screwed him yet, and you consider me a man who doesn’t do long term.”

“Well, yes. I figured you were looking for a roll in the hay. I didn’t know that you didn’t know… hell, we sound like a romance novel. So, Spock finally spoke up about it. What did you say to him?”

“It’s not that simple, Bones.” Kirk sighed and picked his glass up again, then recapped the events of the previous night to his CMO. McCoy grew still and thoughtful. Kirk finished his recitation and sighed again. “What do I do that makes you and him think I’m flirting?”

“Well, you touch him all the time, for one. You don’t touch other people the same way, not constantly like you do him. And _no one_ touches Spock except you, they wouldn’t dream of it. Even I don’t without permission during exams, not since we all realized that he is a touch telepath and can pick up our emotions and surface thoughts from any casual contact. So he is no doubt constantly aware of your affection for him.”

Kirk blinked. “I touch him?”

“Lord, Jimmy, like he’s a tribble and you’re a love-starved spinster.” McCoy replenished Kirk’s glass and sat back again. “And you tease him. With that same ‘come hither’ look you use on pretty girls and the occasional pretty boy.”

“I don’t!”

“You do! What else? Oh, where to begin! There’s the way you lick your lips when he’s talking to you. The way you always listen to his opinion as if it were the gospel truth, leaning toward him, never taking your eyes off of him but blinking far too often. There’s the fact that you’re always adjusting your clothing around him. There are other examples, but perhaps you’re getting the picture?” McCoy drummed his fingers on the table for a moment but didn’t get a response. “What worries me is that you didn’t know you were doing it. And what you’re going to do now.”

“That worries me, too, Bones. So, to honour my promise to him, I need to know all you can tell me about Vulcan sexuality and long-term relationships. The stuff from Beresford is interesting, but it covers mostly the… well, the physical and scientific things, like breeding. Spock seems to think you know quite a bit about the more… social? Social aspects of his culture’s mating rituals.”

“Oh boy. Okay. Let’s finish these drinks and get some food in us before we’re drunk, shall we? Then we’ll have the pre-marital seminar.”

“Don’t tease, Bones. This is damned serious.”

“You’re not kidding it’s damned serious. Drink up, dinner’s on me tonight. Come on.”

*****

It was late when Jim got back to his own quarters, far too late to contemplate anything other than sleep, but he found himself staring at the ceiling as his chrono chirped through 0100 and then 0200 hours. Not really thinking, exactly. “Squirrel caging” his mother called it. “Flogging a dead horse,” McCoy would say. Running over the same information over and over again when he was too tired to see anything new in it. Vulcan mating customs. Permanent. Intense. Monogamous.

He wished he could talk to Spock’s mother about this, but the very idea was so embarrassing he knew he never would. The notion of a life-long commitment to one other person terrified him. He was committed to his ship, to StarFleet, and that had been enough for him before he knew Spock was available and Spock wanted him. Was he seriously considering this, or was he teasing himself _and_ Spock?

“He asked you to marry him, Jim. Get that firmly into your head. Don’t think about it in any other way. Marriage, the old fashioned ‘til death do us part’ kind, not this new-fangled two-year renewable contract nonsense. Not that it doesn’t work for most humans; it’s simply out of the question for Spock. And for you, too, if you’d just face yourself in the mirror someday.” Kirk had wanted to punch McCoy for that remark. There had been too many recent accusations of self-ignorance. But, like that self-analysing captain he’d promised he would be, he had withheld the punch and asked what McCoy meant.

“You have been waiting for the right person to come along for so long now, Jimmy, you think that waiting is your normal state. It’s not. You need a partner, an anchor. I won’t be working with you forever, and I’m your only steady source of support and criticism besides Spock. Only I’m not sexy and I wouldn’t marry you to save my life. I hope you have the sense to take Spock up on his offer. But I’ll still be your friend if you don’t. Your disappointed friend, but friend none the less.”

 _Dammit_ , Kirk thought, _I’m not_ _going to be able to function tomorrow if I don’t get some_ _sleep_. He rolled onto his side and grabbed angrily at the covers that refused to follow him. Wouldn’t need covers if he were sharing with Spock. The Vulcan was like a walking furnace. What would it be like to share a bed with someone whose normal body temperature was so much higher? The thought of Spock’s body temperature brought an instant reaction from his own body, and a complete reliving of the moment of that kiss.

That kiss. Good lord, Spock was gorgeous, always had been, but that kiss had been unbelievable. Kirk felt a sweat starting under his arms and on his upper lip, and threw himself off the bed. 

What he needed now was _not_ a session with Mister Hand, but a little command conditioning put into practice. He took a series of deep breaths and concentrated on listening to the ship, trying to hear the heartbeat of her great engines, the hiss of her air recycling system, forcing himself to feel the movement of the air and the minute but constant adjustments in the near-perfect artificial gravity.

Holding his mind still, at one with his ship, he straightened his sheets, slid back into bed, and was asleep in seconds.


	5. Chapter 5

_what have we given?_   
_My friend, blood shaking my heart_   
_The awful daring of a moment’s surrender_   
_Which an age of prudence can never retract_   
_By this, and this only, we have existed_

_***_

_But do I love Spock?_ The question popped into his mind midway through the next morning as the Vulcan left the bridge to attend to duties elsewhere on the ship. It was an inappropriate question for the job at hand, which was reviewing their flight plan for the next couple of days to incorporate some anomalies that seemed worth investigating. He forced the thought out of his mind and concentrated on the graphics cycling on his padd, rearranged a few numbers and punched a solution. “Mister Chekov, feed this into the NavComp and, if it checks out, prepare for a course change once astrophysics has finished with this star system.” He handed the padd to his navigator, who glanced over it and nodded.

“Looks fine, sir.”

“Why, thank you, Ensign. I’ll be in sickbay for a while. Mister Uhura, take the conn.”

“Yes, sir.”

McCoy was whistling over a microscope when he entered, and didn’t even look up to see who it was. “Jim. Pull up a pew.”

“What are you looking at?” Kirk dragged another stool across the floor and sat down, leaning on the counter across from his friend.

“Bugs. The most recent strain of ‘flu, to be precise. This sucker surprises me every year, how much it mutates. But no worries, we have this one licked already, the vaccine was in your last comprehensive.” He pushed the microscope away and sat back, crossing his arms. “Let me guess.”

“Please don’t bother.” Kirk sighed and pushed his hair back. “Look, for me to contemplate spending my life with someone, I figure I ought to be in love with that person.”

McCoy cocked his head and nodded, then stood up. “Coffee?”

“Thanks.” Kirk rose, too, and followed the doctor into his office where he shut the door against eavesdroppers and fetched them both coffee from the dispenser. “Well?”

“Well, it’s like this, Jim. You love Spock.”

“I do?”

“What do you think love is? You expecting to have a sudden, gushy, overwhelming sense of joyful fulfillment, like a youngster with a crush? You’re a grown man, and worse, you’re a starship captain and a serious pragmatist… though with a streak of idealism a mile wide. Hmmm, surprised you’re not an artist, come to think of it. Now think about Spock. He’s your best friend: honest, loyal, self-sacrificing, cares more for your welfare than his own? Talks about you more than anything else when you’re not around? Sound like anyone else you know? Sound like, perhaps, your feelings for him?”

Kirk felt that same rush of affection again when he thought about it, that deep affection, and felt suddenly cheated. “There must be more to it than that.”

“Well, it’s hard to get romantic and schmaltzy with a Vulcan, I’ll admit. Don’t forget, you’ve been suppressing your attraction for quite some time. I expect that your feelings for Spock will be different than your feelings would be if you had fallen in love with a human female, for instance. In that case I would expect you to experience over-developed chivalry, over-protectiveness, and a sense of intense pride that such a cute little thing had taken an interest in you.”

Kirk coughed into his coffee. “That’s not fair!”

“What’s not fair? You don’t have those feelings because Spock doesn’t inspire them in you. Instead you have admiration and respect of equals, right from day one, which is something that many couples don’t develop for a couple of years _after_ they hitch up together. I think your main problem is, you always expected to hitch up with someone who was not physically or mentally your equal. Human romantic notions tend to skew our males that way, and you being so far above the norm, mentally, of course you didn’t expect to fall in love with your equal. Hell, that outdated romantic twaddle is why gay male couples have to work a bit harder than straight couples at sorting out their feelings for each other. Which leads to why first het marriages almost always fail, while gay marriages tend to stand the test of time.” He paused and sipped his coffee, then shifted gears and got to the root of the matter. 

“Well, you got yourself an equal in every sense of the word, and in a couple of ways Spock is superior to you. He’s stronger and he’s faster. He always will be. But you have things he doesn’t; you’re intuitive, you have the ruthlessness of a commander in your decisions. You make them quick and permanent. So you get a different set of feelings altogether with your love. You don’t feel over-protective; perhaps you feel, instead, safer. You don’t feel all chivalrous. Instead, you have a sense of comradeship. You will, once you establish a physical relationship to go with your emotional and mental relationships, feel a sense of totality, of completion. Instead of pride in his looks you’re proud that a man that brilliant could stoop to marry a man like you.”

“Stoop! Now you’re teasing.”

“Yes, I am. Though he really is a very, very good-looking man. You both are. The wedding photos are gonna break a lot of hearts.” He grinned at Kirk, and Jim shifted in his chair before smiling back.

“You seem pretty sure that I’m going to try this.”

“Nope. I’m sure you’re going to _do_ it. If you weren’t, you would have known it immediately and just told him no. Hell, you never would have started flirting with him. And it’s not something you can ‘try’. Didn’t I straighten you out on that last night?”

“Figure of speech.” 

McCoy sipped his coffee for a minute, eyes fixed on Kirk’s downcast ones. “You know, Jimmy, there’s a very simple thought exercise that will help you with this. Try to imagine your future without Spock. Completely without him. Because you know, if you turn him down, he’ll transfer his Vulcan butt off this ship faster than you can say ‘fizzbin,’ and that will be the end of it. For him it’s all or nothing. How would that make you feel?”

Jim raised his head and held McCoy’s eyes for a minute, and thought about it. Every road it led down was abysmal, and he cringed inwardly. “But I am a human male, Bones. I want a little romance, I have these feelings I want to experience and then to share. Respect and admiration are enough for a lasting friendship, but are they enough for a life long partnership?”

McCoy grinned and leaned back, putting his feet up on the desk in front of him. “Listen to yourself. Well now, Jim, let us approach this in a Vulcan fashion for a moment. Because you know, pretty damned soon, you’re gonna hafta sit down and chat up your ‘feelings’ with Spock. And he’s gonna be all logical, and you’re gonna wonder if you ever even liked the son of a Martian.”

“How can it be approached logically?”

“Oh, hell, it’s easy. First of all, it is logical for Spock to seek out a male partner, as he finds females not sexually attractive. The fact that you are human is not a factor for him, logically, because even if he wanted a female Vulcan he can’t procreate without medical intervention, due to his half-breed physiology. So kids don’t enter into it, not right off the bat, and he feels free to indulge his homosexual nature in his choice of partner. Logical. Other, full Vulcans might choose a mate they didn’t care a plugged nickel for, and have a consort that they, uh, admired. Get it? With you, Spock gets both. Consort and mate, and logically ever after.” McCoy took a breath and sipped his coffee.

“He will also tell you that you and he complement each other in that you provide the two sides of one brilliant mind. His linear genius and your nearly super-human ability to command in multi-dimensional thinking. Witness your chess games. Lordy, talk about blood-letting, it’s a good thing you don’t play that Klingon game with the live people, the body counts would be unconscionable even for Klingons – but I digress. You stimulate his human half, and he enjoys that, though he would probably describe it more as examining the less dominant portions of his personality through observation.”

Kirk burst out laughing, and McCoy grinned at him across the desk. “You have him down cold, Bones.”

“Don’t I know it! When are you going to have this discussion with him?”

“I don’t know.” Jim sobered and set his cup down on the desk, sliding it forward slowly. “I realize that I have to talk to him, try to find out exactly what I do feel for him. And that it can only happen in a private conversation. But… Bones, there’s this electricity around him. I’m not sure…”

“You’re not sure he can keep his hands to himself anymore, having breached the dam.”

“Exactly. And it makes me… cautious.”

“Makes you nervous as hell, you mean! You’ve never had sex with someone who was stronger than you. It’s intimidating, but I’ll bet it’s a pretty exciting idea, too.” McCoy stood up and paced around his desk, dropped a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “If you want to talk to him without touching, Jimbo, make sure you set the ground rules first. Tell him what you expect out of the discussion, and how far you are willing to go, and he will absolutely respect your boundaries. Remember, he wants you. He’ll wait until you figure it out. And have the discussion in your quarters; you’ll feel less uneasy, more in control, if you are on your own turf. Capisce?”

There was some real sense in that, Kirk realized. He stood up and gripped McCoy’s shoulder in turn, then let his arm fall. “I wish you could have a chat with him, too, Bones. I think he needs to talk with someone about what to expect from a human relationship.”

“He’s expecting to learn that from you, Jimmy.”

“I know. But am I ready to teach it? That’s Humanity 101, Bones. We learn that with our weekend cartoons and our high school romances.”

“And we all get our hearts broken because of it. Spock has one thing that no other being in this universe can offer you, Jim. He will never break your heart, once you give it into his keeping. He will do anything to protect it. And you know it.”

*****

Another day had passed with Kirk having to shove Spock out of his mind during his duty shifts. He had spent the afternoon and evening, after his chat with McCoy, finishing all of the written material about Vulcan couples. It had been both frightening, in the finality of it, and tremendously exciting, in the wonderful idea of total sharing it entailed. It seemed from the literature that he could expect to share not only his body, but also his emotions and his thoughts with Spock, without touching, through the bond that their physical/mental joining with intent to marry would bring. It meant no prevarication, no “little white lies,” and no manipulation. Only truth. It was both a relief and a terror to contemplate that.

Spock could have sexual partners that weren’t Jim. Jim could have sexual partners that weren’t Spock. It wasn’t like they couldn’t perform with anyone else, should they wish to. But once they had melded during sex, bonded, both would be totally aware of it, should either of them stray. When Kirk thought about the idea of being aware of Spock’s infidelity he was instantly nauseated. He knew he would never, ever, be one to dish out what he wasn’t prepared to take. He could never disrespect Spock in that way. It would be unconscionable.

That night he had slept fitfully, and had strange, sexual dreams that didn’t stay with him after waking, leaving him with a half an erection and a sharp longing for pointed ears, which surprised him. He wondered how he had managed to suppress the fact that even Spock’s ears were sexy.

Late in their duty shift he wandered over to Spock’s station and cleared his throat. Spock looked up from his data analysis and raised an eyebrow at him, and Kirk had to catch his breath. He didn’t try to stop the smile that the inquisitive look caused. “Spock, I wonder if you would join me for dinner in my quarters tonight. 1900.”

“Certainly, Captain.”

“See you then.” He wandered away again, suddenly trembling, and sat down in his chair astonished at the speed of his pulse and the shallowness of his breathing. Like he had committed to an irrevocable path that led… where?

Where?

*****

He had to force himself to stay calm. He found himself wanting to check his appearance in the mirror, to search for stray hair that the beard inhibitor had missed, to fiddle with the cutlery. He considered candles, and rejected them as illogical, replicated and set them, then snatched them off the table and hid them in a drawer.

Tonight was for talking. He kept telling himself that. Talking. 

He almost leapt out of his skin when the door chimed at 1900 exactly. “Come!” he called, and blushed to his fingertips.

Spock stood in the doorway, carrying something in his hands, and waited until Kirk impatiently gestured him inside before clearing the door sensor and allowing the door to swish shut behind him. He glanced around the room slowly, and then let his eyes rest on Kirk’s. Black, black eyes. Jim felt his breathing grow more rapid and waved a hand toward a chair.

“Come in, sit down. I’m glad you were free to join me.”

“Indeed.” Spock stood stiffly for another moment, and then held out his hands. “A host-gift. I assumed this dinner was a purely social occasion.”

Kirk felt his eyebrows climb as he accepted the wrapped bundle, his fingertips discerning a bottle under the paper. “You assumed right, Spock. Please sit down.” He opened the paper, and found himself holding a bottle of very expensive, very old, whiskey. Where, and when, had Spock acquired this? “Good choice. Will you join me in a glass before we eat?”

“I will.” Spock moved to the narrow couch and sat down gingerly. Jim busied himself with opening the bottle and pouring two glasses, then sat down on the chair beside his exec and handed a glass to him. Spock took it and sniffed, then raised it almost gingerly. “To the future. May it bring to each of us what we most desire.”

Unable to answer the Vulcan’s stunning aberration from pure Vulcan behaviour, Jim raised his glass to touch the other’s, then took a sip of the fiery liquid. “Mmmmm, very nice.”

“I am glad that you approve.” Glad. That baritone, speaking to him in such a human manner, sent shivers down his spine. Jim swallowed convulsively and remembered McCoy’s warning. He cleared his throat and set the glass down on the table between them.

“I have been doing a great deal of… of research, Spock, these last couple of days. And I have followed your advice and spoken at length with McCoy. But now I need to talk to you. Just talk. I need to understand, as a human, what you are offering me emotionally.”

He watched as the Vulcan’s left eyebrow climbed into his hairline, followed slowly by the right eyebrow, and waited until both eyebrows had returned to their resting positions. “Jim, I’m not sure I understand.”

“I think you have to. I am an emotional person, Spock. You know that. I cannot consider entering a life-long relationship with a man who cannot, or will not, provide me with spoken, and unspoken, emotional support.” He was shaking again. He reached for the glass and took another miniscule sip, knowing he didn’t dare get drunk, not tonight. “You have logical reasons for proposing to me. I understand them. I have logical reasons both for accepting and for rejecting your offer, but they aren’t Vulcan logical, they’re human logical. I need to hear, from you, that you understand my needs.”

“I see.” Spock settled back on the couch and stared into the whiskey glass before him. “Jim, may I begin by stating why, logically, you and I are a good match…”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. No, I need to hear the other side of it, Spock. Why, emotionally and illogically, we are a good match. The human side.”

Kirk waited in pained silence, sure that Spock couldn’t do it, dreading the moment in which Spock would stand up and place his hands behind his back and tender his apologies for the inconvenience. He braced himself for the worst, and stilled himself not to speak a word in protest.

Spock was silent for a long time. At last he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. He took a long sip of his whiskey, looked up into Kirk’s eyes, and spoke. 

“Jim, I don’t know what to say about that, for I have never spoken it aloud before. You already know it all. You complete me. Where once I was a competent man, complete unto myself, I am now nothing without you. You have reshaped my life, my soul. You are the rain to my desert, the moonrise to my night. I cannot view a new phenomenon in space without the irrepressible urge to rush to your side and share it with you, just to see your reaction. My every thought is coloured by my reflection upon what you, in my place, would think. Your voice makes me restless and your touch excites me; you are the man I see in my dreams and I sometimes don’t sleep for days, because my dreams make me want to sleep forever. I am not an imaginative man, but I imagine a life at your side and never care if I see Vulcan again… and if I imagine a life without you, I cannot even face the next day arriving.”

Kirk realized he had forgotten to breathe. He had never imagined hearing anything like this. Not from… “Spock.” 

“I cannot tell you why we are a good match. I do not know. Perhaps it is chemistry; perhaps it is everyday, mundane, biology. But to me it is… fathomless, and endless, and without explanation of reason, but it is still perfect and I long for it with all of my being.”

Kirk stared across the table at the black, black eyes, and felt as if he had just been made up new all over again. _How could McCoy have been so wrong_ , he thought. His heart was thudding almost painfully, and his eyes were burning. “Why did I think that a life with you would be a life without emotional support?”

“I do not know. I only hope you know you were wrong in that assumption.”

“I know it now.” He swallowed convulsively. “McCoy suggested I talk with you, and set up ground rules about not making any decisions tonight. Do you agree to that?”

“No. Not at all. You will make your decision when you are ready, and my decision was made long ago. But if you want me to leave now, I will go.”

“I want you to stay,” Kirk whispered. 

“I am glad.” Spock raised his glass again and sipped. “I think, though, that you were unprepared for my response. I’m not sure how to give you time to answer me. I want… I want to lift you from the chair and kiss you and peel your clothes off and make love to you. But you know that.”

“Spock.” He shook himself, realizing that his cock was stiff and his breath was shallow and his hands were shaking. “God. A human man, in your position, would take advantage of my confusion and attraction and push the limits on this. But you would never do that, would you?”

“No.” Spock rose gracefully from the couch. “But I will use your washroom, and then perhaps we should have dinner, if I am still invited. And we will speak of whatever you wish to. I am content to wait a while longer. But please, not forever.”

Something broke in Kirk’s head at that. It felt as if a wall were falling, and the Vulcan came into clear view for the first time. Jim set his glass on the table and stood up, his voice trembling as he spoke from his new vision. “You’ve been sure of me for months, haven’t you?”

“No, Jim. I have been sure of my own needs, and wants, for months. I have never been sure of you. But I wish to be.”

Kirk lifted a hand and set it against Spock’s chest, and felt the swift heartbeat and the harshly indrawn breath. “I am sure of you, Spock. I could do no better. McCoy told me to wait, and be certain, but he also told me that one of the things I was best at was making decisions.”

“And so, you have decided?”

“I choose you. Spock, I accept your proposal.”

An instant later and he was enveloped in a crushing warm embrace, hot lips pressed against his own; but this time he let his own arms fold around the narrow, hard back, and pushed himself against the other’s long torso. His last coherent thought as a single man was a slow, uncoordinated blessing on McCoy for backing the right horse. He gripped Spock hard to himself and whispered into the searching mouth, “I love you, Spock,” and a surge of lust and love came over him so strongly that he knew he was, at last, honest with both of them.


End file.
